Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
“Come home with me. We can talk this out.” He reaches out a hand to touch my cheek, but I snap out of it, jerking away before he makes contact.
“No.” I shake my head, taking a step back to put more distance between us. “I want you to stop calling me. Stop texting me. Just stop, Liam. You said it yourself; we’ve been over for a long time.”
His nostrils flare and his head falls back, his face skyward as he sighs. “Fuck you, Valen,” he mutters before walking toward his car. He slides into the driver’s seat and slams the door shut before peeling out of the circular drive, his tires kicking up gravel on his way out.
I sigh, dropping down to sit on the front steps, resting my elbows on my knees. “Good talk.”
I’m sitting in my car, still parked on the side of the circular driveway when Christian and Baker burst through the front doors. I was too embarrassed to go inside after what happened with Liam, but I don’t want to go home either. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but they’re arguing about something. Baker seems upset, and Christian seems…resigned. And slightly more sober than he did when he stumbled up the driveway thirty minutes ago. They both get into Baker’s car, and about five minutes after I watch their headlights fade away in the distance, the front door opens again. This time it’s Holden, and he’s prowling toward his Range Rover, keys in hand.
I jump out of the car before I can think better of it. “Holden!”
He slows his steps but doesn’t turn to face me. I stop in front of him, anticipating a fight, fully intending to yell at him about lying to Liam and telling everyone at the party that he fucked me, but the look in his eyes stops me. Something is off. He looks haunted. Broken.
“Is everything…okay?” I ask lamely.
He arches a brow. “Dandy. Why do you ask?”
“Because you just punched Liam and now you’re—”
“Yeah, I don’t think your boyfriend was too happy about that. My bad,” he says in a way that says he’s not sorry at all.
“Ex-boyfriend,” I correct, searching his eyes for any sign of the emotion I saw seconds ago, but they’re completely blank. “And that’s not what I meant.”
“Your relationship status is none of my business.”
“Since when? You had no problem inserting yourself less than an hour ago. You were defending my honor and now you’re treating me like—”
“Treating you like what, Valen?” he asks, cutting me off. “Not everything revolves around you. I’ve gotta go deal with something,” he says dismissively before walking away from me. Before he gets to his car, he turns to face me, walking backward as he shouts, “But hey, if you’re still interested in payback and need someone to bend you over later, I’m your guy.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I yell. “For a second there, I almost thought there was more to you than the asshole you pretend to be.”
He shrugs, a cruel smile on his face. “And for a second, I almost thought you were more than a stuck-up little cheerleader with nice tits and an attitude problem. Guess we were both wrong.”
Valen
One Year Later
“It’s like watching Animal Planet,” I say to Shayne, who stands beside me, our shoulders touching. Both of us have our arms folded, watching intently as her boyfriend and her brother attempt to put aside their disdain for each other long enough to turn her bed into a loft bed to fit her desk underneath. “Which one will prove to be the alpha?”
Shayne elbows me. “As long as they’re not fist-fighting, it’s progress.”
Grey still isn’t thrilled about them, and it’s been a year, so the fact that they’re even in the same room together is kind of a big deal.
“Move over, rich boy. Working with your hands isn’t your area of expertise,” Grey says to Thayer.
“Why don’t you ask your sister how good I am with my hands?”
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Shayne mutters before walking away.
“You guys see that little white thing with the words on it?” I ask, pointing to the forgotten pamphlet on the floor. “It actually tells you what to do. Literally spells it out for you. Crazy, right?”
“I don’t need instructions,” Grey grumbles.
“I’m going to order pizza,” Shayne calls out from the kitchen. “Any requests?”
“I’m actually going to head out,” Grey says, walking away from the pile of metal and screws littering Shayne’s bedroom floor.
I turn for the kitchen in time to see Shayne’s face fall. “Already?”
“Yeah.” He scratches at the back of his neck. “I’ve got some shit to do. Call me if you need help with anything else.”
“Okay. Thanks for coming over.” She tries to conceal her disappointment with a smile, but I see it, and I’m sure Grey does, too. He pulls her in for a quick hug, ruffles her hair, and then he’s gone.